


Temporary Insanity

by miabicicletta



Category: Oxford Time Travel Universe - Connie Willis
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-26
Updated: 2013-09-26
Packaged: 2017-12-27 15:53:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/980795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miabicicletta/pseuds/miabicicletta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How even one of his most talented historians could be so unobservant...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Temporary Insanity

**Title:** Temporary Insanity  
 **Author:** miabicicletta  
 **Summary:** How even one of his most talented historians could be so unobservant...  
 **Rating:** PG/Gen  
 **Characters/Pairing:** Polly/Colin, Mr. Dunworthy  
 **Wordcount:** 602  
 **Author’s Note:** Another fluffy Oxford Time Travel fic. Because this universe needs more stories. 

\---

Polly moves in with Colin before their second date. 

“It’s only temporary,” she explains to Mr. Dunworthy, impatient. As if she were repeating details of a lesson for the umpteenth time and really, weren’t there more important things to think about at the moment? “You know perfectly well that I’ve nowhere else to live and he has a whole house. Apparently his great aunt left it to him. I’m very lucky; it’ll save me the trouble of having to find something while I’ve got to deal with this nightmare Registrar business. It’s absurd how she’s having me _re-apply_ to my own program!” 

She launches into a critique of said Registrar (a wretched, by-the-books woman she refers to as “Miss Havisham”, and who Mr. Dunworthy has already had the profound displeasure of meeting), nimbly side-stepping the real issue at hand that very clearly has her so anxious. She glares at the stack of paperwork the university has given her and reaches for her pen. “Honestly, if I’d know how many forms I’d have to fill out, I’d have stayed with Eileen.” 

She scribbles furiously for a few moments, then dares to lift an eye. “No words of advice?” 

Mr. Dunworthy idly tabs the reader in his hands to _The Times_ business section. “The graduate-level slippage data-modeling seminar is a waste of your time. It’s based on outdated information. You needn’t bother with it. Take Ishiwaka’s temporal calculus instead.” 

She scribbles a change on the form and taps her pen back and forth on the desk. “That’s not what I meant.” 

Hi eyes lift momentarily from the screen. Polly is considering him with that familiar, daring expression. “It’s very convenient,” he offers.

Polly bites her lip. “If you’re worried for Colin’s welfare, I wouldn’t be. He’s a grown man. He’ll be fine. In fact, he’s even offered to help me look for a new place, so you needn’t give me that look. He’s much more mature than you or I have given him credit for...” she went on, filling out her paperwork and offering her excuses as she went. Lord knew why. It was clear as day to him. 

Mr. Dunworthy shakes his head, rubs the bridge of his nose. How even one of his most talented historians could be so unobservant... 

“My dear,” he says finally, dismissing his newspaper. Polly pauses in her diatribe and stops shuffling through her papers after a missing form. 

“Yes?” She counters. 

Mr. Dunworthy exhales in mild frustration. “That boy spent ten years of his life looking for you in history books. He rescued you from the middle of the worst war of the modern era. He has loved you since he was a teenager and exceeded the every expectation of either you or I, of this university, and the rational conclusions of the most seasoned historian. He has gone so far as to challenge the very laws of nature. For you." He looks at her over the frames of his glasses. "Given the evidence at hand I have to ask: By what madness do you think you’ll ever want to leave?” 

To that, Polly has no reply. 

A month later, she marches into his office and submits a proposal for coursework supporting a study of the war-torn communities affected by the First Crusade. A ring glints on her left hand. 

Mr. Dunworthy examines the curricula and makes a scant few recommended additions to her scheme. He signs the form, along with the companion documents for her proposal partner and fellow advisee. Satisfied that her paperwork – and Colin’s – is complete, he hands the pages back to her. “Am I to take it your self-delusion – however practiced – has run its course?” He asks. 

“I claim temporary insanity, sir,” Polly replies, and goes back into the world, smiling.

 


End file.
